


Already Lost It All

by DragonNutt



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Gen, but then season 4 came out way sooner than i expected and it jossed all my headcanons, catra doesn't want a new dad but she's getting one, in which an old man adopts a feral cat, it's literally just those two on beast island, originally was going to take place after season 3, so we'll just keep things simple and make this an au past season 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-09-26 20:48:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20395930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonNutt/pseuds/DragonNutt
Summary: After almost two decades spent isolated on Beast Island, Micah finally stumbles upon an injured, banished Horde soldier. Too bad she wants nothing to do with him.





	1. Chapter 1

Micah had long grown used to the rumbling snarls that echoed across Beast Island like a constant, distant storm, even now when he crept alone though a clearly deserted cavern. Soft light emanated from his palm while he studied the walls, which bore ancient hieroglyphs and symbols that didn't quite match anything he had seen from the First Ones' cathedrals back home. He suspected they were the remnants of some extinct language from eons past. Though he was certain they would be of no use to him, he simply had nothing else to do. Almost two decades alone on Beast Island had left him dwelling between two extremes: sleepless terror and soul-crushing boredom.

When he side-stepped around a stalagmite, he stepped in a puddle and felt the water seep into his tatty shoe. He wrinkled his nose and looked down at himself, wishing he had paid more attention to Light Spinner's lessons on clothing repair as a child. What had once been luxurious, regal purple robes were now stained, gray, and patchy. He had a feeling they also smelled terrible, not that he had to worry about the opinions of any nearby company--

Something stumbled in the dark.

Micah closed his fist, the light at his hand disappeared, and he pressed himself back into the wall. Fighting the creatures on Beast Island was always a gamble, even with all the magic at his arsenal. Thankfully, the thing approaching had light, unsteady footsteps. Whatever it was, it was small and hadn't spotted him yet. All he needed was one quick illusion, and he could probably scare it away.

His hands moved in a swift circle, and the sorcerer's spell lit in front of his chest. With a quick jab of his index and third finger, he sent a glowing ram bursting from the circle to barrel down the cavern. His magic lit the cave just enough for Micah to spot the beast within the shadows, something with thin limbs, a rust-colored pelt, a mane, and different-colored eyes.

Low to the ground, the beast bared its teeth and darted behind a cluster of stalagmites. The ram smashed into a wall and evaporated, and Micah's mouth pressed into a grim line. He had no idea _what_ his adversary was, but now it knew exactly where _he_ was.

Sliding across the wall back in the direction he came, he let the sorcerer's spell vanish and clenched his fists. Punching the air, he sent a cruder, shapeless blast of magic into the dark, and the beast skittered out of the way once more. Micah tilted his palms toward each other, ready to cast the vocal spell for shape-shifting, but before he could open his mouth, the beast pounced. It landed on his shoulders, and when he fell to his knees, it sliced its claws across the back of his head. Micah yelped and threw another crude magic blast up high, but the beast sprang away, dashed back into the shadows, and shouted, "Too slow, old man!"

Micah froze. "You can talk?"

Something slammed into his side, and he smacked into the stone floor. The beast kicked him onto his back and pressed a foot into his chest, and though this was definitely not enough to pin him, Micah was simply too shocked to move. He opened his palm to cast a soft light within the cavern, and the beast standing over him was, in fact, not a beast at all.

"Attack me with that stuff again," she snarled, pointing a sharp-looking rock at his throat, "and I'll make sure it's the last thing you ever--"

"You're a _person!_" Micah shouted. In a surge of adrenaline, he jerked upright, sending the young magicat stumbling backwards with an angry yelp. Scrambling to his feet, Micah babbled, "I'm so sorry! I thought you were one of the residents here-- learned to blast first and ask questions later-- I almost hurt you! Are you okay? How'd you get here?" Holding his lit palm high, he reached out his other hand to help her up. "What's your name?"

The woman's pointed ears pressed flat against her head, and she scooted away from him. Micah's giddiness dampened a bit when he noticed that one of her arms was wrapped in some type of messily crafted sling of cloth, leaves and twine. Baring her fanged teeth, she said, "I'll ask the questions around here--"

"What's going on with your arm?" he asked.

"Nothing!" She stumbled to her feet, tail lashing and eyes contracted into slits. "Had to beat up a mantisaur, or whatever, it'll be better in a few days-- I can still take down anyone who tries anything, including you!" Keeping her stance wide like she was still braced for battle, she pointed a clawed finger at him. "And who are you, anyway? What's some random sorcerer doing on Beast Island?"

"Me? Oh. Right." He cleared his throat and straightened his back. "Forgive me, I must have forgotten my manners after all these years. My name is Micah, king of--" He faltered, but he fought the urge to drop his gaze. "Well, _former _king of Bright Moon."

He hadn't thought it was possible for the magicat's face to contort with more rage, but somehow she managed. Yellow eye twitching, she sputtered, "King of-- So you're-- _you_\-- that--" Her voice gave way to a crazed laughter that certainly would have alarmed Micah twenty years ago, a sound that echoed up and down the cavern as ferine and wild as the native animals' roars. She flailed her uninjured arm and yelled, "That's _just_ my luck, isn't it?"

Squashing down the onslaught of emotions borne from finally encountering another sentient face, Micah took a deep breath and kept his expression neutral. "I'm also a sorcerer from Mystacor." Taking a step closer, he reached for her wrapped arm. "I know some healing magic; I could fix your arm if you--"

"Stay away from me!" The girl's mane and tail visibly puffed up while she scrambled away from him, and Micah paused his approach. With a manic grin, she hissed, "I've been cursed and blasted and tortured with enough magic to last a lifetime. If you touch me with that stuff, you _die. _Understand?"

Micah, who was not the slightest bit afraid of death, shrugged and held his palms up. "Suit yourself."

She stomped back toward him and pressed the point of her sharp rock into his chest, and her tail thrashed when he only raised an eyebrow in response. Flashing her teeth again, she hissed, "Listen, old man, this is how things are going to work around here: you're no king, not anymore. You're not the boss of me, or anyone--"

He nodded. "Yes, I'm aware. I said 'former' king of Bright Moon for a reason--"

She jabbed the rock harder against his chest and snapped, "Stop interrupting me, or I'll-- I'll--" She lifted the rock and waved it across his eyes, "I'll slice your ear off!"

Miraculously, Micah had the restraint to hold in his snort of laughter. He had no doubts the girl was genuinely dangerous-- she wouldn't have lasted this long on Beast Island if she wasn't-- but something about her reminded him absurdly of his daughter's "angry toddler" phase, throwing the biggest hissy fit if he didn't give her that third cookie _right now_. However, since he was sincerely fond of both his ears, he nodded compliantly and said, "Of course. My apologies."

"You got any weapons?"

"Hmm." Micah pursed his lips, seriously considering the question before he reached down and pulled a decorative blade from his waist. With another shrug, he held it out on his open palm. "I have this knife?"

"Hand it over." She snatched the knife out of his hand and let the rock fall, and it didn't occur to Micah until the knife was pointed at his nose how easy it could have been to disarm her. She narrowed her eyes and asked, "How long have you been here?"

"Uh..." Micah's head tilted while he mentally tallied how many monsoon seasons he had endured. "Five, six... maybe seventeen years? I lost count a while ago."

The tension in her shoulders eased a bit, and her tail went still. "So you know your way around the place." She took half a step back and gestured around the cave, and Micah's light flashed across the moving knife. "Alright, how do I get out of this dump?"

Micah blinked and gave her a weak smile. "The island? Kid, if I knew how to leave, I'd be gone by now."

Her eyebrows furrowed, and Micah expected her anger to return, but instead she gave an unimpressed snort and said, "Great. Then you're of no use to me." She spun around, tossing the knife and catching it while she strolled further into a fork of the cave.

Micah's eyebrows shot up. "Wait, where are you going? You don't want to go in there." He held his lit palm higher and pointed back behind him with his other thumb. "The exit's the other way."

She ducked around some white strands dangling across the cavern, barely paying attention to them. "I'm not trying to leave yet. The only reason I'm down here in the first place is to get away from that weird, stinging rain outside."

Gritting his teeth, Micah trotted after her before she could disappear into the dark. "The acid rain? Ah, yeah. That happens every few days or so." Watching his footing far more carefully than his new companion, he winced and stepped around the white strands strung across the cave floor and walls. "But you definitely don't want to go this way."

She looked around at the strands and wrinkled her nose, but she seemed more puzzled than alarmed. As Micah approached, she pinned her ears down, whirled around, and hissed at him, "I'll go whatever direction I want. I didn't ask for your opinion, and I didn't ask you to follow me. Go away."

Micah chuckled, straightened his back, and put his hands on his hips. "Sorry, kiddo, but you're the first living person I've seen in almost two decades. You think I'm about to let you out of my sight?" He smiled brightly at her. "Besides, like you said, I know my way around the place. I can help you out."

She scowled. "I don't need your help."

Though he was polite enough to not roll his eyes, Micah still sighed. "Listen, kid--"

"I'm not a kid."

"Listen, Fuzzball--"

"My name is Catra!" She stomped toward him and held the knife to his throat, eyes wide and blazing just an inch or two higher than his own. "Force Captain Catra, second in command behind Lord Hordak. I work for The Horde, sworn enemy of your precious rebellion!" With a wicked grin, she asked, "So do you still think it's a good idea to follow me around like a homeless puppy, Micah of Bright Moon?"

This time, Micah almost flinched away from her, almost considered blasting her with magic, the weapon she couldn't take from him. His teeth ground together, and his fingers twitched. In the corner of his vision, Catra's tail was still lashing, still puffed up with agitation and fear. Micah let a long breath in and out through his nose. "Well, I can't say I'm _thrilled_ to hear where your loyalties lie..." His shoulders relaxed, and he gave her another cheery smirk, "but I'm way too desperate to judge. I'm afraid you're stuck with me, Force Captain Catra, and speaking of stuck," He pointed back at her tail, "you'll want to stop moving around right now."

Catra glanced back; her tail had brushed against one of the white, sticky strands and was now ensnared in it. She spun and yanked away, and the web around them shivered at the pull. Micah grabbed at her shoulder and tried to keep his voice steady when he said, "Stop moving, stop moving, _stop_\--" Catra ignored him and lurched backward again. The entire web shifted at her movement, trembling all the way to the other side of the cave, and when Micah lifted his lit palm, an enormous creature with way too many legs started to creep out of the shadows.

Catra's eyes went round, and a hissing snarl spat out of her throat when she jerked back a third time. She stumbled and fell into more strands, landing on her injured arm with a pained yelp. The knife tumbled out of her other hand. Micah jumped between her and the approaching beast, holding his lit palm low to the ground, and with a twitch of his fingers, the knife bounced across the floor and landed neatly in his grip.

The light faded from his palm and shifted to the blade itself, lighting up the cave like a torch. He swung the glowing blade, and white-hot magic sliced through the air, tearing the web and barely missing the beast, who froze at the attack. As it crouched low, flashing its glistening fangs at the two, Micah shouted, "Back off!" The strands shifted again when Catra tried to clamber to her feet, and he turned to grab her uninjured arm. "Stay still."

Eyes still round and unblinking, Catra actually listened this time. Micah carefully stepped around her and the limp strands on the ground, letting his voice turn low and calm when he explained, "Arachnosaurs don't like to chase their food; they only hunt when something gets stuck in their web. Every time you move, that's his cue to come get you. Hold on. I'll pull you out."

He sliced the glowing knife across the strand wrapped around her tail, and as soon as it was free, she tucked it under her legs. When he hacked off the other tendrils, her muscles tensed like she was about to bolt again, but he held fast to her arm and said, "Don't panic. He's already losing interest, see?" He pointed the knife at the arachnosaur, which hadn't retreated yet but seemed to be sulking where it sat. Carefully pulling Catra to her feet, Micah gestured the other way. "Follow me. Watch the web this time, alright?"

Catra didn't respond, and she kept her head down while the two crept their way back out of the cave's fork. Once they escaped the web completely, Micah kept walking, passing the hieroglyphs that had caught his attention what felt like hours ago. The distant, familiar growls of the other Beast Island dwellers reached his ears, and when the two arrived at the cave's exit, Catra finally bristled and yanked her arm away from him.

"I didn't need you to save me," she snapped, avoiding his eye contact and fiddling with her crudely crafted sling. "I could have ripped that spider thing apart if it had gotten closer."

Micah puzzled over whose ego was more important right now, and then he finally acquiesced with a polite nod. "Oh, I'm sure. If you're second in command at The Horde, you must be pretty tough." He frowned when Catra pulled a bit at the sling and shuddered, and he took a step closer. "Is your arm okay?"

"It's. _Fine_." The two words came out like guttural snarls.

"Are you sure you don't want me to heal--?"

"Where's my knife?" Scowling, she spun to face him again and thrust out her open palm. Micah's eyebrows rose toward his messy hairline. The sheer gall of this injured, lost, unarmed Horde soldier bossing around one of Etheria's most powerful sorcerers... It was almost impressive. With an amused chuckle, he passed the knife back to her.

"The rain stopped," he noted, nodding out toward the hazy jungle. "Where to next?"

Catra frowned at him. "I'm guessing wherever I go, you plan on tagging along?" At his enthusiastic nod, she groaned and rolled her eyes. Spinning the knife in her hand, she stepped out of the cave and into the light. With Micah strolling after her, she shrugged and said, "Whatever. Just stay out of my way."


	2. Chapter 2

After Glimmer was born, Micah had swiftly learned that being a king was far easier than being a parent. Unlike rival kingdoms, infants were not capable of compromise or reason. Unlike his own subjects, his toddler's only talent was putting herself in danger. He had endlessly amused his sister Castaspella with woeful tales of how his perfect baby angel was also a cranky, ungrateful, sociopathic little nightmare. Other parents had warned him that if he thought raising Glimmer was tough _now_, just wait until she became a teenager.

Honestly, now that he was traveling with a teenager, the only difference he could tell so far was a better vocabulary and a whole lot of eye rolling.

"So," he said, trailing along behind Catra while she trekked through the jungle in a path that he knew was aimless but was too polite to point out, "how does one become second in command at The Horde? And how did that lead you out here to Beast Island?"

With her back turned to him, Catra did not answer, but when she pressed her hand against a tree trunk, her claws dug into the bark and sliced four raw lines across it. She kept walking, and as Micah passed the tree, he rested his palm against the scratches and cast a quick healing spell. "Alright, fair enough," he said. "None of my business. Anything interesting going on at the mainland? You mentioned the rebellion, so I'm guessing the war is still going? How's the princess alliance? Are Queen Savannah and King Tortimir keeping everyone in line--?"

"You talk a lot for someone surrounded by giant, hungry monsters," said Catra, and though Micah couldn't see her face, he had a feeling she was rolling her eyes again.

"You'd be surprised! The beasts out here aren't monsters; they're just animals." Micah trotted to her side and thrust out an arm to block her from stepping into a muddy puddle. "Hold on, go around that. It won't kill you, but all that acid rain will give you a rash."

With a scowl that Micah was starting to suspect was permanent, Catra side-stepped around the puddle, clambered onto a web of tree roots, and asked, "So is all the water like that? What have you been drinking for the past decade or whatever?"

"Uh, hold on." Micah squinted up into the canopy, and with a snap of his fingers, two large, spotted yellow fruits popped off their branches and dropped into each of his hands. Holding one out, he said, "These have a lot of liquid in them. You can slice off the top there--"

She put the knife between her teeth and plucked the fruit out of his hand. Squatting down to rest the gourd in her lap, she spit the knife out onto her open palm and stabbed the fruit. However, once she ripped off the top and peered inside, she paused and wrinkled her nose at him. "How do I know this won't poison me?"

Micah blinked at her. "Because I told you it won't?"

Her claws dug into the fruit's flesh. "You're from the rebellion, and I'm from the Horde--"

"Oh, right, of course." He bowed his head in a nod. "Clearly, you're my mortal enemy, which means that even though you're the only travel buddy I've had since I came here, and even though I already saved you from the arachnosaur, my secret plan is obviously to kill you."

"We're not buddies," she said flatly. "You didn't save me from anything, and if you're so trustworthy, why don't you drink it first?"

"I would," Micah rolled his own yellow gourd around between his palms, "but I seem to have misplaced my knife."

Catra's lashing tail rustled the leaves behind her, and though it was hard to tell with all the island's background noise, Micah almost swore he could hear a low growl in her throat. She finally thrust the open fruit back at him. After trading hers for his own, Micah took a swig. With her shoulders still hunched, she asked, "What is it, anyway?"

"No idea," Micah answered honestly. Swirling around the juice still left, he shrugged. "I've never seen most of the fruits and herbs out here before; I only learned what was useful through a lot of trial and error over the years." He gave her a sheepish smile. "Luckily, that's also how I learned that some of my healing incantations can be tweaked for stomach aches and poisons."

"Hmm." Catra shifted her gaze to the other gourd in her lap and the knife in her good hand. Now that they were outside, Micah could see her injured arm more clearly. Her fingers were completely limp, and she had wrapped her forearm in a splint made of strips of cloth, leaves, a stick, and a belt. Knowing how much he relied on his magic to solve his every problem, he was genuinely impressed by her resourcefulness, even though her refusal to accept his help still baffled him.

"But enough about me," he said, squatting down next to her. "What's your story, Force Captain Catra?"

Her ears pinned back, and she avoided his gaze. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because I haven't heard anyone else's voice in years, and a part of me is worried that I finally cracked, and you're just a figment of my imagination." He gave her a bright smile that she completely ignored. "C'mon, Fuzzball, you don't want to humor a sad old man? I just want to hear someone talk for awhile, y'know? Maybe there's something you want to get off your chest, or something you want to rant about?"

There was that eye roll again, only this time it came with a grim, toothy smile that didn't last long. Micah drummed a finger on his knee for a minute and peered around into the jungle, casting a few silent spells with a flick of his index finger to check for unwanted company. The only potential threat was a nearby tyrosaur, but Micah wasn't too worried about it yet. He turned his attention back to Catra and asked, "How long have you worked for the Horde? Did you enlist recently, or...?"

"I was born there." Catra frowned and tilted her head. "At least, I think I was." Her eyebrows stayed furrowed, but her eyes widened in confusion, as if she had never once given that background any thought before.

Latching onto the fact that she had finally answered one of his questions, Micah leaned forward a bit. "So your parents are with the Horde?"

Catra shook her head. "I don't have parents. Shadow Weaver raised us." Her claws pierced into the gourd in her lap. "She made it sound like we just popped into existence to serve Lord Hordak. I'm pretty sure she was full of it; she said I was born when I crawled out from under a trash can."

Micah waited for some response to the punchline, but Catra's scowl remained. If anything, her hunched shoulders sank a bit, like she was a plant wilting without sunlight. He raked his hand through his matted hair and glanced into the distant jungle. "I don't know who this Shadow Weaver person is, but I don't think I like her."

Catra gave a snort of laughter that didn't quite reach her eyes. Micah decided to change the subject to something a bit more vague and asked, "What's it like working for the Horde?"

Her ears flicked back a bit, and she sent him a suspicious side-eye. "Why do you care? Trying to collect enemy secrets?"

As tempted as Micah was to respond with one of his own childish eye rolls, he refrained. "You keep assuming the worst of me, don't you, Fuzzball? I'm asking because I'm curious, and also I'm lonely and pathetic and super sad." He paused, and though she didn't laugh at his self-deprecating joke, her mouth did curve up a bit for just a second, which he considered a win. "Besides, even if I were a rebellion spy collecting all your secrets," He swung his arm outward to dramatically gesture into the empty jungle, "who would I tell?"

"Hmph." Catra gave a halfhearted nod of agreement. Scooping the knife into her good hand and holding the gourd still between her knees, she said, "Alright. You want to know what it's like at the Horde? It _sucks_." She stabbed the fruit and sent its top flying into the jungle greenery. Letting the knife carelessly drop into her lap, she grabbed the fruit and took a gulp. Through gritted teeth, she said, "You spend your whole life training for some bitter old hag who hates you, and you get abandoned by your best friend, and even after you get more stuff done than your own boss ever did, and you get _this_ close to taking down Adora, over and over, all it takes is one screw-up," She threw the fruit, and it smashed into a nearby tree, "and you end up _here_."

Her rant had honestly raised more questions than answers, and Micah took a moment to ponder over her words. She took the knife out of her lap and started digging it through the roots near her ankle, leaving long, angry wounds in the wood. Micah rested an elbow on his knee and asked, "And who's Adora?"

This was apparently the absolute wrong question to ask. All of Catra's fur bristled in sudden rage, her knife sent a chunk of root flying into the shrubbery, and she muttered, "No one important."

"I'm guessing she's Savannah's kid?" At Catra's blank stare, he clarified, "I never met her, but if she's anything like her mom, she'd definitely be in charge of the rebellion now--"

"Adora's an orphan. She's no one." She pointed the knife at him. "She's a _traitor_."

Micah had seen Catra angry several times in the few hours that he'd known her, but this was something else. Her tail was bristled and lashing again, and her ears were pinned, but the rest of her body shook with emotions that seemed too big for her body. Micah considered dropping the subject again, but instead he asked carefully, "A traitor to whom?" His gaze softened. "To you?"

Her eyes contracted into thin slits, and through gritted teeth, she forced out, "To... the Horde." She lowered the knife and held it loosely in front of her, but her teeth were still bared in a snarl. "She was Shadow Weaver's favorite. She was _everyone's_ favorite. But after all her promises, after everything, she ran off and joined the rebellion. Bet you're real happy to hear that, huh, King Micah?"

Watching the way her limbs still quaked, Micah shook his head and said honestly, "Not really. It sounds like this girl really hurt you a lot. I know exactly how that feels."

A noise almost like a laugh broke out from Catra's throat. "You don't-- first of all_, _she didn't _hurt_ me. I don't care that she left-- I _wanted_ her gone!" She leaned close enough to press the tip of the knife against Micah's nose. "Second of all, you don't know _anything_ about my life or how I _feel_. You and I have nothing in common--"

Perhaps Catra had finally managed to strike a nerve, or perhaps Micah had gotten fed up with her lashing out; he had no other excuse for why he suddenly straightened his back and snapped, "Oh? You didn't grow up with her, admiring her and trusting her more than anyone else you knew, only for her to turn on you the second she got a taste of new power, joining your enemies and leaving you in the dust to wonder what you did wrong?" His face flushed, and he averted her eyes, genuinely shocked at his behavior. "Sorry. In that case, you're right. I don't really know how you feel."

After a moment where neither spoke, leaving the jungle silent other than the eerie calls and roars of distant animals, Catra scooted back to the roots behind her and lowered the knife. The heat in her voice was gone when she said, "Someone did that to you?"

Micah brushed tangled hair out of his eyes. "Her name was Light Spinner. She was my teacher. She taught me almost everything I knew about magic, at least before I met Angie. She convinced me to help her cast a spell to protect Etheria from the Horde, but--" He gritted his teeth. "Something went wrong, and--"

He sighed and bowed his head. He had spent many nights lying awake, wondering how things would be different if he had tried harder to make the Spell of Containment work, or if he had refused to help cast the spell in the first place, but he doubted Catra had any interest in his sob stories. "Well. It turns out she was after power for herself the whole time. She killed Norwyn, fled Mystacor, and joined Lord Hordak, who gave her everything she wanted."

Taking another swig until his own yellow fruit was empty, he tossed the rest aside and let it smash into the dirt. Still a bit embarrassed about losing his temper, he stared off into the jungle. That tyrosaur had wandered a bit closer, but it still wasn't a threat yet. Meanwhile, Catra mumbled, "I don't know anyone in the Horde named 'Light Spinner,' but it sounds like I wouldn't like her much."

Micah let out a breath that escaped like a weak chuckle, and he turned back to her. "My apologies. I interrupted you. You were telling me about your own traitor friend." When Catra pressed her mouth into a thin line and shifted her gaze away, Micah rested his chin on his palm and added, "I'm surprised the rebellion accepted her so easily. The princesses are kind, but they aren't stupid. Have they grown that desperate for new soldiers?"

Catra tapped her fingers against her knee and shook her head. "No. I guess it's like you said about Light Spinner. I mean, you want to talk about power? Turns out Adora is the princess of it." She answered Micah's puzzled frown with a sarcastic grin. With pure contempt in her eyes, she pointed her knife upward and said, "She found a magic sword that turns her eight feet tall, and now everyone in the rebellion loves her. You ever heard of She-Ra?"

"Wait." Micah sat up straighter. "Your traitor friend is She-Ra? The old legend, the Princess of Power?"

Catra's grin dropped, and something in her gaze turned cold. Folding her knees in like she was bracing for something inevitable, she rested her elbow on them and turned her head away. "Yeah."

Micah's mouth dropped open, and he raised both his index fingers while he thought back to her rant from before. "Wait, but no. Hold on. You said earlier that you've almost beaten her a few times, right?" Catra glared at him like she was bracing for some sort of ridicule, which couldn't possibly be right if she was telling the truth. Micah flailed his palms and said, "But she's a She-Ra! You've almost defeated a She-Ra? You mean you've led armies against her, or...?"

Looking perplexed, Catra mumbled, "Only at first." Sitting up a little taller, she shrugged and added, "I don't need armies, really. That big sword makes her slow, and she's kinda dumb. I usually just lead her away from the other princesses and go from there."

Micah's eyebrows shot up. "You've been going toe to toe against a She-Ra all by yourself?" With an amazed grin, he let out a laugh and said, "No wonder you're surviving Beast Island! She-Ra is supposed to be powerful enough to wipe out armies! She can tame the wildest beasts, undo the evillest curses... Legend says she's practically invincible. Even I couldn't fight a She-Ra by myself."

Catra's eyes went round at his words, and her ears perked forward. Face flushing, she said, "I mean, I haven't officially_ won_ yet, not permanently, but I've gotten her captured a few times..."

Micah let out a low whistle. "You've gotten Etheria's invincible magic princess captured _a few times_, even though she has a super-powered sword and you don't? Kid, remind me not to get on your bad side. You're a way bigger threat than I thought, and Hordak is a _moron_ if he sent you here."

For just a moment, everything about Catra seemed to light up. All traces of that scowl evaporated in a smug, ecstatic smile. But it didn't last long. Like a shadow passing over the canopy, her expression went dark again, and she snarled, "Wait, what are you trying to pull?"

Micah's smile faded, too. "Hmm?"

Narrowing her eyes in suspicion, she aimed the knife back at him. "Why are you complimenting me? You're from the rebellion; for you, defeating Adora is a _bad_ thing. What are you trying to manipulate out of me--?"

"Wait, shh." Micah leaned to stare into the jungle behind her, where something large and heavy crept closer toward them.

"No, _you_ shut up--" Catra paused at the sound of crunching underbrush behind her, and she turned to follow Micah's line of sight.

The creature emitted a low rumble in its throat and lowered its body into a crouch. Micah stood and swirled his index fingers in front of his chest, summoning the sorcerer's circle. At the sudden light, the tyrosaur raised its enormous, scaly head out of the jungle bushes. Like scolding a small child, Micah shook his head and said, "Don't even think about it, big guy." When he pointed his index and middle finger at the beast, an eagle burst from the sorcerer's circle and smacked into the tyrosaur's face. With a startled roar, the beast stumbled back, spun around, and trotted further into the woods.

With an annoyed huff, Micah sat back down. Catra watched the tyrosaur retreat, muscles tense and tail twitching, until she finally turned back to him with a cocked eyebrow. "How'd you get that thing to just leave like that?"

Micah waved a dismissive hand in the tyrosaur's general direction. "Like I said, most of the beasts here are just animals. They don't want to start fights for no reason, especially with something that isn't afraid of them."

"You weren't scared of that thing? Its teeth were bigger than my knife. It could have swallowed you whole." Her body shifted into a defensive crouch. "What kind of magic are you hiding?"

He shrugged. "It's not really about my magic. These beasts are intimidating no matter how much magic you have, but intimidation doesn't really work on someone with nothing to lose."

Micah didn't think his statement was particularly revolutionary, but something about his words shocked Catra so badly that her mouth fell open and the knife tumbled out of her hand. It bounced off the tree roots and down into the jungle grasses, but with a flick of Micah's fingers, it drifted back up and landed at her feet. She didn't notice. "But you're a king," she said, eyebrows creased. "You have plenty to lose."

Micah winced, and a hot, tar-like wad of grief and despair rose in his gut. Turning his head away, he said, "Not anymore. After I was captured, the Horde destroyed Bright Moon, and they killed my family."

He didn't see Catra's reaction, and he certainly hadn't expected condolences from a Horde soldier, but her voice was far more perplexed than he expected when she asked, "They... they did?"

"Did you not know that?"

She mumbled, "I, uh, I kinda missed force captain orientation...?"

Micah took a long breath in and out through his nose, and that wad in his gut started to bubble. His fingers dug into the fabric on his knees when he said, "The Princess Alliance had a plan to attack the Horde right in the heart of the Fright Zone. I was in charge of rescuing a princess they were holding captive, but..." He grimaced. "Light Spinner caught me first. Even with all my magic, everything I had learned at Mystacor and Bright Moon, I was still no match for her."

He bowed his head, and stringy hair drooped over his face. "She threw me in one of their holding cells. I waited in there for weeks, wondering what had happened to the rest of the alliance. Light Spinner didn't capture any other prisoners alive. Just me. Finally, she came to my cell and said that Hordak had ordered her to kill me, but because she remembered me _so fondly_," The two words were spat through clenched teeth, "she was going to show mercy instead. She was going to send me away to Beast Island so I wouldn't have to die. I told her I would come back."

He gulped a few times to keep his voice steady, but he could still feel heat in his eyes. "She said that I had nothing left to come back to; Hordak had launched an attack on Bright Moon, and without me there to protect it, the kingdom had fallen. Angie was supposed to be immortal, but as Hordak apparently discovered himself, she could be killed, and so could Gl--" His voice hitched, and he pressed his palms against his eyes. With his body hunched over and trembling, he knew that saying Glimmer's name out loud would break him. He weakly murmured, "My daughter. She was just a baby."

He had to take several long, shaky breaths before he had the strength to sit back up to face his traveling companion. Catra stared back at him with an odd, conflicted look on her face. Micah coughed, brushed his hair out of his eyes, and said, "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to bore you with my pity party."

Her ears folded against her head, and her gaze shifted back and forth. "N-no, uh. It's fine. I, uh..." Her shoulders stooped, her tail curled around her body, and she glanced back into the jungle as if she would rather fight that tyrosaur than sit here for another second.

Micah smiled weakly and said, "Fuzzball, I'm not holding any of that against you. You must have been a baby back then, too. Even if you're with the Horde now, you had nothing to do with what happened to me. It wasn't your fault, and I know that." He folded his hands in his lap and drummed his thumbs together. With another shrug and sigh, he said, "I guess it's selfish of me, but I don't care about the rebellion anymore. My family and my kingdom are gone, so I don't have any stakes left. It's not all bad, though. I got to meet you, didn't I?"

He wasn't sure if her answering facial expression was meant to be a smile or a grimace. She ducked her head down, and the claws of her good hand dug into the roots near her lap. She glanced back up only once, eyes gleaming and mouth open like she wanted to say something important. Micah appreciated the effort, though there was nothing she could tell him that would make him feel better.

In the end, Catra said nothing.


End file.
